


heart and soul

by jimlafleur



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Prompt: Instrumentalists, just a quick drabble if anybody needs something to read at the bus stop or something, lil fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:44:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4260327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimlafleur/pseuds/jimlafleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As she spoke she watched the keys like they were some precious thing, and there was such admiration in her tone that Mulder could only imagine the respect she held for the instrument, or for the composer, or for both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heart and soul

**Author's Note:**

> based on a twitter prompt: your otp practicing an instrument together. of course i thought of the piano and of course i thought of these losers.
> 
> i'm currently on the beginning of season 3 of the x-files, so please no spoilers!!! i love this show A Lot. it's really bad!
> 
> i really recommend listening to some of the pieces mentioned in here, like heart and soul (obv) and metamorphosis. [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_hMw1C6fPt8) you can listen to all metamorphosis 1-5 and some more lovely stuff by philip glass. 
> 
> ENJOY :~)

To Scully, work parties were barely sufferable, especially not after the karaoke began.

Mulder had absolutely no tolerance for them at all.

Too frequently, after their co-workers had a couple drinks in them, any control they had might have had over themselves during the work day -- which, granted, wasn’t a lot in the first place -- disappeared. The _spooky_ jokes never ended, and no amount of refills made them funny to Mulder. Not that he couldn’t handle them. Years of jibes had hardened his exterior and made such remarks nothing more than words. But that didn’t mean he would willingly put himself in a situation where these annoyances were unavoidable when he could just as easily stay home.

The good news was that work parties were far and few between. Something about the FBI being a respected, professional organization with little patience for fun and games. The bad news was that, regardless of traditions, parties were still thrown sometimes.

Tonight was one of the instances where the formalities of the bureau were forgotten and celebration rang in the hearts of everyone. Or, most everyone. Unfortunately for Mulder, he felt forced to attend this time around, since the whole reason for the party in the first place was to celebrate the retirement of an old associate of his -- someone he might even call a friend. So, for that reason only, he begrudgingly drove to whoever’s house it was being held at with a deeply set frown and a bouquet of flowers.

“Flowers?” Scully said. She had been halfway to the door, arriving seconds before him, but she’d stopped once she saw him. “Mulder, I don’t know if you knew, but this is a retirement party, not a funeral.”

Amazingly, the scowl on his face softened, and he waited until he caught up with her to reply. “I was going to bring a bottle of wine, but I decided to save it for myself. After tonight I think I’ll need it more than anyone here.”

Scully laughed, and they entered together.

* * *

 

She knew the importance of civility. Like Mulder, Scully never much enjoyed parties, but she carried herself well. She laughed, sipped champagne, politely chatted, laughed some more. Never keeping one conversation for too long, and never keeping to herself for a second. Typical of her to treat a harmless social gathering like a crime scene, as her sister might accuse -- but she wasn’t her sister. She couldn’t let go of herself so easily in front of her co-workers. They already thought less of her for her work on the X-Files; she didn’t want to make the wrong impression on them in this environment too.

The first hour went by relatively smoothly. Everyone was cycling around the house, gathering in small circles and engaging in small bursts of conversation. Every so often Scully fell back to square one, with Mulder. She’d find him lingering near the food table, or in front of the television. One time she looked over and saw him flipping through a pile of vinyls, delicately handling them like pieces of evidence. She wasn’t the only one handling this like a crime scene.

Traditions are traditions, whether they’re in the FBI and out. And, like always, the karaoke began -- much earlier than normal, Scully thought bitterly. It wasn’t at all appropriate to sneak home when she’d only been there an hour and a half. The agent retiring hadn’t opened his gifts or said his goodbye’s yet, which meant those formalities would be saved until after karaoke, which meant Scully couldn’t possibly go without being rude. The realization made her sigh. She took another glass of champagne and watched as the first performer grabbed the mic.

It was ludicrous. Scully wasn’t watching for a minute before she departed from the crowd, disappearing into one of the farthest corners of the floor. She would have to find something else to entertain herself with, because there’s _no_ way she would sit around and tolerate anything so ridiculous. Sighing, she examined the area. Searching for clues to solve the case.

* * *

 

Mulder found answers of his own behind closed doors.

Much like his partner, he was less than impressed by the show. He was ready to depart the party long before the karaoke even began, having heard “spooky Mulder” at least a dozen times since he arrived. He was nearly out the door before he remembered the existence of the one person at this party he put up with.

He briefly searched for Scully in the crowd, but unsurprisingly she wasn’t there to be found. Mulder hadn't really expected her to sit through something so mortifying, but it was a start. He swiftly made his way through the house, not finding her anywhere, until he reached the parlor. Here, this removed from the rest of the party, it was almost quiet -- quiet enough that he could hear a slow tune coming from a connecting room. Slow, melodic, and peaceful: piano music.

Behind large glass doors shaded with long linen drapes was a small room which seemed to exist for one reason only: to be played music in. From what Mulder could see, there was a harp, miscellaneous drums and percussion, guitars, several wind instruments… it seemed to him a whole symphony lived inside that room.

Plus, of course, the piano. The source of the sound which had drawn him towards the doors in the first place. The source of the sound, which came from Scully’s long fingers gently tracing the ivories like they were made of glass.

Mulder opened the door. She looked up in surprise but didn’t suspend her playing. Closing the door softly behind him, he slowly walked towards her to the beat of the piece. The tempo was slow and quite sad, yet somehow lively at the same time. He couldn’t name the tune, though not for lack of trying. Even after she played for several more minutes, he couldn’t recognize it. Maybe if it was anyone else, he would’ve interrupted and asked her the title. But it was Scully. And it was so beautiful. Any interruption of her playing would’ve been downright sinful.

He knew the ending had come when it began to sound like the beginning. The piece had come full circle, just as many things do in life. Slowly, the tune quieted, until the only sound in the room was a whisper, and until there was no sound at all.

There was silence for a few moments while they both digested the piece. Then Scully spoke up. “I thought for sure you’d left, Mulder.” She relaxed in her seat and grabbed her glass. “Can’t imagine you’re a fan of karaoke.”

“I’m not.” He agreed, sliding onto the bench next to her. “I was inches away from leaving when I heard you playing.” She slowly sipped her drink. He averted his eyes to the keys. “I never knew you were a pianist, Scully. That was incredible. You have a real talent.”

Next to him, she stifled a small laugh. “I wouldn’t call myself a _pianist_. I just… play piano sometimes. I took lessons through high school, and a couple music classes in college.”

“You learn something new every day.” Mulder said with a grin. “What was it that you just played?”

“ _Metamorphosis_ , Philip Glass. Or, parts of it. The whole arrangement is nearly a half hour long. I played it in a recital my junior year. Frankly, I’m surprised I still remember it. But it’s a very, very beautiful piece.” As she spoke she watched the keys like they were some precious thing, and there was such admiration in her tone that Mulder could only imagine the respect she held for the instrument, or for the composer, or for both.

His mouth barely moved when he spoke. “Got that right.”

She lifted her head and they met each other’s glance. “Do you play?” She asked.

“ _Ah_ ,” he laughed quickly, turning his eyes on the keys. “I mean, yeah. I took lessons through elementary school. My mom was really into it… back then I did it for her. But I was a dumb kid and quit as soon as I got the chance.” Mulder pursed his lips. “I wish I hadn’t. And I wish I had a piano of my own so I could have an excuse to get back into it now.” His hands fell on the keys, but he didn’t play anything. It seemed like everything would be mediocre after what she just performed.

“Well, I have a piano back at my place,” Scully said. “You can play it whenever you want. I could even give you lessons if you’d like.”

Her tone was sarcastic in nature, but he knew there was honesty in her statement. Mulder smiled, and she smiled back. “Don’t know how I could possibly turn down such an offer. Thanks, Scully.”

“Of course,” She laughed, and took a last sip of her champagne. There was a small moment of silence, until Scully set down her glass and turned her body towards him. “Mulder, do you know how to play _Heart and Soul_?”

“Who doesn’t know _Heart and Soul_?”

She smiled. “Do you wanna play it?”

A fondness spread through him. At this point, the violent screeching from the karaoke a few rooms away was no more than a buzz. It was a peaceful, moderate spring evening, and through windows Mulder could see trees swaying in the breeze. And next to him was his partner, perhaps his only friend, and certainly the only one he knew he really trusted. They’d both faced death, they’d both been hurt, they’d both been manipulated and betrayed and tortured. And now they were sitting at a grand piano, about to play a duet.

It’s just funny how the world works sometimes.

“Sure, but I only know the high part.” Mulder told her. “I hope you know the harmony, else we have a problem.”

“I know both parts.” She assured him with a nod.

“ _Both_ parts, huh?” He wasn’t surprised, not really. He knew by now that there wasn’t much Scully couldn’t do. But he made it sound that way, hoping to get a smile out of her. He stood up and walked behind her to sit on the other side of the bench, his hand trailing along her back as he moved. He squeezed in and decided to leave his arm where it was -- wrapped snugly around her. After all, she was the one that needed two hands, not him.

He was rusty. She wasn’t. But they were able to adjust to each other’s technique and produce a sound that wasn’t perfect, but perhaps that’s what made it great. The whole time he held her, and she had the perfect posture of a pianist, but he could swear he felt her nuzzle into him a few times.

Later, she’d be glad to give him lessons. But most of their sessions didn’t develop further than _Heart and Soul_.

**Author's Note:**

> if any1 wanted 2 know, writing this made me think of lost. u know, when jack and sarah play heart and soul together. ouch!
> 
> please please please if you enjoyed, let me know! <3


End file.
